


As We Sleep VII

by Crowgirl



Series: Scars Remind Us [54]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Demons, Dreams, M/M, Past Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-21
Updated: 2012-10-21
Packaged: 2017-11-16 19:02:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/542805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crowgirl/pseuds/Crowgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ongoing discussion, and ramifications thereof, between Dean and Castiel about the after-effects of Hell.</p>
            </blockquote>





	As We Sleep VII

LIV.

Dean dreams.

_The hot, metal-scented, fetid room is almost comforting now. Dean doesn’t call out, doesn’t go looking for anything, just leans back against the long, slanted table and waits._

_‘Back again, Winchester.’_

_‘What do you get out of this?’ He turns and Oriana is standing at the end of the table, her fingertips resting lightly on it._

_Her head tilts slightly. ‘What?’_

_He spreads his hands, gestures at the room around them. Noises echo from beyond the walls, screams, shouts, cries in more languages than he knows names for. There’s a heavy, distant taint of smoke in the air. If he tilts his head back, he can see it curl and roil in the air above the endless walls. ‘I mean, you could be anywhere, right?’_

_She tilts her head the other way and her black eyes flash silvery for a moment. He grimaces, remembering Lilith. ‘Your pet angel has me in a jar, remember?’_

_He shakes his head. ‘Yeah, yeah, but...you’re here. Why come back here? Why make this place?’_

_To his surprise, she takes the question seriously. She steps away from the table, takes a few steps towards the edges of the room and turns back to him. ‘You are supposed to be in charge of this, aren’t you? Take us somewhere else. Or didn’t your pet angel give you the power?’_

_He shrugs. ‘I’m not as strong as you.’_

_She smirks. ‘You mean your angel isn’t as strong as you think he is.’_

_‘Look, are you gonna answer my fucking question or are we gonna insult each other all night?’_

_‘This place...’ She steps back to the table and plants a hand on it, strokes her palm over the pitted surface. ‘This place... was the first place I felt happy.’_

_‘What?’ He blurts out the question without meaning to._

_She looks up at him and her face is sober. He knows her expressions, knows every fine delineation of thought, knows how her cruelty shows itself in eyes, mouth, hands -- and it isn’t there now. She looks -- thoughtful, but she doesn’t say anything._

_‘You felt -- fucking happy here?’ Dean can’t stop himself. _

_‘Yes...’ She strokes the table again. ‘Alastair taught me how to hurt people. So exquisitely...to make them last for...so long. I’ve had sex since then--’ She says it as if Dean had made some claim to the contrary but his mouth’s dry and he can’t say anything. ‘--and it’s not as good.’ She turns sharply, plants both hands on the table, and stares at him. ‘It’s not as good.’_

_‘What the--’_

_‘ You remember -- the first time you use the skinning knife?’ She slides a fingertip back and forth along the edge of the table. ‘That first time you peel back that thin layer and--’_

_‘Jesus, stop!’_

_‘---and they scream and scream--’_

_‘Christ!’ He jams his hands over his ears and she grins at him and traces the line of the table again. When he can see her lips have stopped moving, he drops his hands. ‘What the fuck is wrong with you!’_

_She spreads her arms wide, does a little pirouette. ‘I’m a demon, Winchester. What do you expect? Flowers and kittens?’_

_‘But -- but you were fucking human once -- I mean -- weren’t you? That’s the deal with all of you, right, you were humans?’_

_She plants both hands on the table and leans across at him. ‘I was beaten to death by my uncle when I was twelve years old because I wouldn’t suck his cock any more. Do you think I give a shit what happens to you monkey fucks any more?’ As she speaks, her eyes blur and shift and become human eyes: dark, dark blue eyes. Tiny veins snake in from the sides and her right eyeball abruptly turns red, as though injected with blood from within. She leans further forward, hissing the words against his face: ‘Why should I want to do anything but kill you little mudcrawlers for as long as I can raise my fucking hands?’_

_She raises a hand and flicks her fingers as she says it. Clawed fingers reach from thin air and tear through his clothes and into his skin._

_'You can't kill me, you bitch!' Dean rips himself free, blood running from gashes on his arms. His jeans are in tatters around his legs and he can feel warmth trickling down the backs of his knees._

_'Maybe not.' She smiles, teeth sharp, inhuman behind human lips. 'But I can sure as hell make myself happy for awhile.'_

**Author's Note:**

> Title from "Anthem of the Angels," Breaking Benjamin, _Dear Agony._


End file.
